Broken
by Pillocase
Summary: A Pokémon Gold nuzlocke short story, about the decline of an aspiring trainer. Rated M for language, as well as references to alcoholism, substance abuse and similar themes.


I used to think that I could rule the world.

Not any more.

I used to think that I was strong, that I could make a difference, that I _amounted_ to something.

No longer.

I used to be young and innocent, with hopes and dreams... but now it's all gone, all gone...

.

.

.

My name is Walter.

I was never special. Grew up in a godforsaken hamlet, halfway across the globe from everything worthwhile. I was piss poor, only a mother to support me, father bailed out on us when I was three, the bastard. Mother went to the neighbour for "consolation", had another baby two years on, didn't think it strange until much, much later. Then the neighbour left also. Mother started drinking at night when she thought we were sleeping.

I was ambitious, aspired to _be_ something. Offered myself for paid jobs around town, got a few responses, worked for worthless wages. Mother used the pay to buy pisco, her favourite. I didn't care a damn, worked more, got better pay as I grew older, and the respect of my townsmen, though they thought mother was shameful.

I had a dream, wanted to join the championship tournaments. Was jealous of bastards who made it to the top, zealous to have part in it. Those who beat the Pokémon League champion won fame, glamour and money, got to do everything they wanted, were adored by the women, faded from the public eye the next year. I never wondered why, only saw the razzle and dazzle and damned razzmatazz. Thought I'd win the bloody tournament for sure, thought it'd be easy.

It wasn't.

Earned a decent batch of money from working, saved as much as I could from every paycheck, but mother fucking found the cache twice, bought more bloody brandy with it. But finally, I was twenty-four, I had just enough to get a licence, could buy my first pokémon and get started.

Her name was Aurora.

We set off together, left behind mother and sister, didn't offer them a single thought, hadn't told them I was leaving. We travelled to Violet, tournament was starting there in a month, wanted to get prepared. Caught more pokémon on the way there - Bathshebha, Cordula, Dorian, Eclair, Filipe, Gilbert, were their names. Trained them, had fun, waited, imagined I was the bleeding king of the whole damned world.

The tournament started. They pitched me against a bunch of trainers, lots of wimps and useless sad sacks, made me feel even better about myself and my team. Floored them all, went further. Met some tougher sods later, but still beat them.

Then came the regional final. I was there, faced the other finalist, used Cordula and Gilbert. Didn't realise how strong he was. His bird crunched Gilbert against a stone pillar, cracked his bones, blood spurting everywhere. I stared, gaped. Cordula took revenge, bit the bird's neck in half, won me the win.

We moved on. Caught Hymn, Inigo, Jeanne, Kendrick, all good Pokémon, brought them with me to the next town, Azalea. Tournament was picking up again in another month, I trained like crazy to avoid what happened last time, forced everyone into a ruddy regime, desperate not to lose anyone, good trainers never lost anyone. Bathshebha couldn't take it, I overtrained her. Suddenly keeled over, bloody well _killed_ her, with my own hands.

Couldn't take the pressure, started drinking to steady my nerves, only a little at first. Got worse, had whole days I couldn't remember, didn't mind it then. Helped me forget Gilbert and Bathshebha, plus I had the money, earned more for every sod I beat. Tournament came up. Kept drinking throughout, turned up shitfaced on the field. Couldn't focus, made mistakes. Damned mistakes killed Dorian and Inigo. Cried myself to bed before the final, swore on everything holy I'd stop drinking. Turned up sober next day, used Aurora, Cordula again. Won the battle easily. Got prize money, forced myself not to go to liquor store and celebrate.

Travelled further, tournament was continuing in Goldenrod the next month. Caught Lavender, swore to myself I'd never let her die, no matter what, no matter who else died. Started on regime again, trained everyone, was less harsh. Felt faint a lot, couldn't focus, fucking yearned for more alcohol, but I'd sworn to stop. Bought a couple bottles, drank a little every day, never too much. Enough to quell my thirst.

Goldenrod was a dangerous place. Lots of alleys and slums, despite the fancy-schmancy glamour and glitter, goddamned shithole. Criminal gangs, drug cartels ruled the nights before the tournament started. Casinoes and strip clubs everywhere, visited a few, couldn't resist the temptation. Blew off a shitload of money, damned well didn't care, thought I had enough. City blinded me with attractions and sins, saw the red lights dancing before my eyes, seized the chance every night, ignored training my pokémon. Soon I was back on the bottle.

Tournament started. Was drunk the first day, didn't pay attention to battles. Was lucky, nobody got hurt. Second day, Lavender got hurt. Pulled her out of battle, sent in Aurora. Thought I was safe, but drank only a fourth my normal dose that night.

Tournament went on. Things looked up, won more battles, came to the final. Was confident, thought my team could handle the whole world. Had caught Miranda the day before, she was strong, could beat up half my team effortlessly, thought I had the win safe in the box. Showed up sober, used Aurora, Cordula and Miranda. Aurora and Cordula died straight away, their heads stomped so hard to the floor they broke. Miranda barely managed to scrape by and win. I'd goddamn killed two more goddamn pokémon.

Couldn't take the pressure. I'd earned lots of money, blew it off on alcohol and hookers almost instantly. Started on drugs to relieve pressure, take away the pain. Sold Hymn, Jeanne and Kendrick to cartel to get more money for more drugs. Couldn't keep myself together, broke to pieces, gave in to reveries and lust, fell asleep in the gutter.

Got to Ecruteak eventually, when I got there I found Nicholas and Ophelia in my team, didn't know how they'd got there. Must have caught them in a daze. Went straight to heavy drinking, couldn't take the pressure, didn't even think about preparing for tournament, went straight to brothel. Found a little consolation, had to return, had to buy more, get more, or I'd be left completely alone. Felt hollow, empty.

Still dreamed of being champion, still wanted to continue tournament, dream was slipping away, wanted to continue tournament to get more money, more pleasure. Imagined myself with Lavender at night, forgot everyone else. Tournament came up, I showed up drunk, won easily, fell over, threw up on the field. Got ushered out, complained, sold off Eclair for more, more, more, wanted more, I needed more, more. Tournament went on, I drank more, more, went to brothel, again, took more drugs, tournament swam by in a daze, sold Ophelia on the night before final, spiralled away, away.

Final came up, I was left with Lavender and two more, didn't care, hardly even thought about Lavender for battle, needed more alcohol, had to win battle, to get more money, I'd sell off the other two once I'd won, steal money if I needed it, I only cared about pleasure, imagined everything I'd buy when I won the whole tournament, everything I'd do, and then I'd settle down somewhere, and Lavender would be there, and we'd be happy, and everything okay, Lavender.

The first one died, didn't care. The second died, I didn't care, only Lavender was left, Lavender would win, she would win for me, I knew Lavender, I felt certain of victory, knew I'd win, Lavender.

Lavender died.

I was out of money, out of pokémon, out of drugs, drinks, out of dreams, out of Lavender.

.

.

Now I'm all alone, don't have any money left. No roof over my head, no money in my pocket, no pokémon to earn money... no liquor. No Lavender.

I'm not committing suicide. _I'm_ not killing myself. Dreams and ambitions killed me. Dreams and ambitions and aspirations cocked and fired the gun, poured the poison into the glass, laid the noose around my neck and kicked away the stool, stabbed the sword into my stomach and turned it. I'm not to blame for what I'm going to do, I'm just... letting it happen. I'm already dead. I'm just stopping myself from experiencing more of the afterlife.

My name was Walter. I was never special.

I used to think I could amount to something.

I used to think I could rule the world.

Not any more.

.

Good bye.


End file.
